Consolation
by orianna-2000
Summary: An strange source brings comfort to one who is grieving from a sudden loss.


_This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon_The X-Files _television series created by Chris Carter. _The X-Files_, and all related characters, places, and events, belongs to 1013 Productions, and is used without permission. This story, along with any original characters, belongs to the author, © 1997, minor revisions 2005._

**Consolation  
By Orianna-2000**

_This rather melancholy_ _piece was written eight years ago, but surprisingly needed very little revising. Although it is obviously X-Files, the way it is presented is such that no names are used. Technically I don't even need to post a disclaimer, but since everyone knows it's supposed to be X-Files, I will anyway. It was an experiment in writing styles, hence the lack of identifying names. The rating is PG-13 for the rather bloody opening scene, but the rest of it is quite tame, if emotional._

X x X

Bright red blood flowed out of the wound in his abdomen, gushing onto her arms as she vainly tried to apply pressure. Her mind was a blur, she couldn't think, all her actions were instinctive.

"Don't leave," she whispered, or was it only a thought? She leaned over the still form, holding her hands firmly on the gaping hole in his stomach. It seemed to her like she sat there for hours, trying to prevent the precious lifeblood from surging out of his body, but it just kept rushing out, staining her hands, spilling onto the floor.

Her fingers slipped from the wound, the slickness of his blood making it hard for her hands to stay in the right place.

Footsteps approached, echoing like thunder off the cement walls of the nearly deserted parking garage. She didn't look up, so intent was she on not letting the pressure ease from his stomach. Others gathered around her, she didn't know how many, barely even sensing their presence.

A hand touched her shoulder. She jerked at the physical contact and glanced up. "Help," she said shakily, recognizing that the person who had touched her was a paramedic. She hadn't even heard the sirens.

The EMT knelt beside her and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

She frowned at him and turned her head back down to the man laying at her knees. The blood had stopped flowing. That was good wasn't it? She had managed to stop the bleeding. So why wouldn't this person help her? "He needs immediate saline, intravenous. Ringers solution... replace the lost volume..." Her voice trailed off as the paramedic stood and accepted a white sheet from one of the other paramedics standing nearby.

Someone pulled insistently at her from behind. She reached desperately for the wounded man. "No, I've got to keep pressure, the bleeding could start again..."

The male paramedic pulled the plastic sheet over the body, covering the man's face.

"No," she choked, a thick knot forming in her throat. Her eyes closed as horror burned her chest and fear chilled her stomach. Firm hands pulled her up, forcing her to stand, turning her around, pushing her away.

She couldn't catch her breath, was she drowning?

She swayed where she stood, but the expected arms did not reach out to steady her. Opening her eyes, she watched as the dark blood silently dripped from her hands, leaving round splatters on the concrete below.

She screamed.

...And woke up. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she gasped for breath. Dimly, she realized that she was sitting up in bed, tangled in the damp sheets. But it wasn't her bed, it was his. And he was dead...

The scream that still echoed in her mind quickly became real.

Two weeks passed, stretched out into an eternity by tormented days and agonizing dream-filled nights.

She stood in the office that they had shared for so many years. Numbly, she gathered the files that were haphazardly piled on his desk, glanced through them quickly to make sure none belonged to another department, then placed them in the tall file cabinet. It didn't matter which drawer they went into, all the metal cavities were marked with a single X, and it was unlikely anyone would be interested in finding them in the future.

She had spent the past two weeks living in his apartment, avoiding the sympathetic visitors that flocked to her own. His belongings needed to be packed away too, and she was the one designated to do so. Today, though, she had given up on sorting through his things at home, and so she found herself here, in their basement office.

Removing all personal items from both of their desks, she put them in the cardboard box she had brought along for this purpose. Then she started on the walls. Down came the photographs and the diagrams, the poster declaring his wish to believe. As she carefully she rolled the poster and placed it on top of the rest of the items in the box, tears spilled down her pale cheeks.

"The truth," she whispered to the empty room. "You never even found your truth."

The last into the box was his badge and personal firearm. The gun that the government had issued him had already been confiscated. She planned to turn her own weapon in, along with the badge identifying her as a Special Agent, on her way out.

A scraping noise came from behind her.

She whirled around, instinctively reaching for her gun. A man stood in the shadows near the doorway, but despite the lack of light on his face she recognized him.

"You," she said, voice hard with anger. She brought the gun up level with his chest, pulling the safety off.

The man lifted a cigarette to his mouth with two fingers and took a deep drag. Blowing the pale smoke out, he smiled thinly. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm aiming a .45 at your heart," she replied icily.

"No, no. I mean this," he gestured around the now empty office, leaving an arch of smoke in the air. "You don't mean to tell me that you're giving up?"

She stared at him coldly. "You've been trying to get us out of here for the past six years without success. Well, it looks like your plans finally worked. He's dead, and I'm leaving."

An unreadable look crossed his face. "That was a mistake. We didn't plan for it to happen. In fact I did everything I could to ensure that he wouldn't be killed."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You have no reason to," he assured her. "But it's the truth."

She laughed dryly.

"I am sorry about his unfortunate death, even if you don't believe that I am." He dropped the nearly gone cigarette and stepped on it, grinding it with his foot.

"In compensation..." His eyes roved around the office again, lingering on the blank walls, the empty pair of desks. "...I am prepared to offer you what your partner sought for so long."

Her mind whirled. "The truth?" she asked, lowering the gun slowly, still not quite trusting.

"If that's what you want." He pulled a new cigarette out from his breast-pocket and stuck it in his mouth. He gestured questioningly with the lighter.

She nodded tersely.

An amber light briefly illuminated his face, then faded, replaced by the small red glow of the lit cigarette.

"Well?" he questioned.

She considered. The answers that they had both spent so many years searching for... _Do you really want to know_, whispered her mind. The answers that they had both been devoted to finding... _Do you really want to know?_

"No."

The man didn't look surprised. "I thought that you might refuse the knowledge, were it to be offered to you. But I am still prepared to give you something."

"I don't want anything from you," she said, shaking her head. "I won't owe my soul to the devil."

He tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough. "Ah, but I don't expect anything in return. Think of it as... a sympathy gift."

She shook her head as he walked to the door. She would never trust him, but he actually seemed sincere in his regret of her partner's death.

He opened the door and beckoned to someone out in the hall. A moment later a young girl with chestnut braids walked in, her hazel eyes wide with anxiety. "It's all right," the man reassured the child. "This is the woman I told you about. The one who is going to take care of you."

She stared at the girl in disbelief. "How do I know this isn't just another clone? How do I know this really is his sister?"

"I assure you, this is no clone. She is an eight year old child, confused and frightened, wanting her family. She doesn't know that more than twenty years have gone by since she was arguing with her brother over which television program to watch."

At mention of this, the girl shouted her brother's name. "Where's my brother? Where is he?"

"No, shh. It's all right." Kneeling, she took the girl in her arms, fighting the tears that insisted filling her eyes. She looked up at the man who was blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

"Put that out," she demanded, "And tell me how this is possible."

He obeyed, stepping on the cigarette. "But I thought that you didn't want to know..."

She glared at him and he conceded. "A parallel technology to our cryogenics. She aged not at all from the night she was taken, and let me assure you that it wasn't I who was responsible for her abduction."

She didn't believe him, but was unwilling to contest it.

"I'll be going now. Again, please accept my condolences on the loss of your partner."

The child looked up and watched him leave. Then she turned back to the woman who was holding her. "Please, where's my brother? And my mom and dad?"

"There's a lot you need to know," she began, uncertain how to explain to the little girl all that had happened. "You've been gone a very long time."

She sat the girl on the desk. "Your parents are gone now, sweetheart. And your brother..." she stopped as a knot formed in her throat. "He searched for you, for a very long time. And I even helped him."

"You know my brother?" the girl asked.

"Yes. He was my best friend, but..."

The child frowned and asked hesitatingly, "Is he gone too?"

Unable to speak, she only nodded. The girl buried her head in her shoulder, sobbing his name. She stroked the girl's head and began crying herself.

_(fin) _


End file.
